This Is Who We Are
by ErisandDysnomia
Summary: Because not just Daryl is on this show, I'm giving some props to the rest of the cast! Each cast member gets a songfic! No OCs, No AU, just the characters being who they are.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: So, I was finally on the Walking Dead database since I had last updated Landing Feet First. And, uh…wow. There's a massive amount of Daryl/OC fics. I mean a MASSIVE amount, and I know I'm really not one to talk…seeing as I own two of them…but I mean, there's sooooo many amazing characters on that show, and I think they deserve some representation. **

**So this has no OCs, Daryl has only one chapter that is actually about him. **

**But, I hope you enjoy this anyways :D I'll be doing the main characters first, and then adding onto it as I go!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, but maybe someday damn it! I also don't own Hero by Skillet, and there are spoilers for season two. **

**Enjoy my little zombies!**

**~Eris**

RICK-Hero (Skillet)

_I'm just a step away  
>I'm just a breath away<br>Losing my faith today  
>Falling off the edge today<em>

_I am just a man_  
><em>Not superhuman<em>  
><em>I'm not superhuman<em>  
><em>Someone save me from the hate<em>

He could still remember when the world had changed for him. It was that first Walker that Morgan had shot down and Rick could almost laugh at how he had been shocked that he had just killed a man in cold blood, in the middle of the street, in broad daylight. He hadn't had too long to ponder that fact before Dwayne had knocked his lights out.

After he'd woken up, and Morgan had given a big dose of truth, he hadn't given it a second thought. He needed to find his family. He'd have to save them. After all, he was the loving father, the doting husband…who had his moments of distance, and he was the brave cop behind the hat. Rick had been born a hero, and that's exactly what he would be.

_It's just another war  
>Just another family torn<br>Falling from my faith today  
>Just a step from the edge<br>Just another day in the world we live_

_I need a hero to save me now_  
><em>I need a hero, save me now<em>  
><em>I need a hero to save my life<em>  
><em>A hero will save me just in time<em>

Morgan was a smart man, and he'd done his best to try and convince Rick that there was no reason to after his family…after all, he probably wouldn't like what he'd find. In the deepest corners of his heart, Rick would admit that he almost hadn't gone looking. It wasn't Morgan's story that convinced him, but it was seeing the love of his new friend's life stumble her way up the walkway and attempt to enter the house.

It was then that Rick realized that he was scared. Morgan had said that he and Dwayne moved around a lot, and Rick had known the true owners of the house that they were squatting in. That meant the dead woman knew her family was inside, but Rick couldn't decide if that meant she missed them…or she just believed them an easy snack.

If Lori had ended up like that, he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger either. If Carl had tried to eat him, grabbing his gun wouldn't have even crossed Rick's mind. It just wasn't possible.

However, it was possible that they were still alive. He'd repeat that to himself over and over, but a large chunk of his faith had been murdered by Morgan's logic, and there was no reviving that.

He had tried to continue to believe he could do this on his own. But it wasn't until he reached Atlanta that he realized the gravity of his situation. He was in a literally in the fucking apocalypse and he had no idea where to start.

Thinking back on the way he'd rode into Atlanta on his horse, like some John Wayne wannabe, almost made his eyes water from the absurdity from it all. He'd almost deserved to be attacked, the way he'd underestimated those Walkers. Hell, he would've died there if it hadn't been for Glenn.

_I've gotta fight today  
>To live another day<br>Speaking my mind today  
>My voice will be heard today<em>

_I've gotta make a stand_  
><em>But I am just a man<em>  
><em>I'm not superhuman<em>  
><em>My voice will be heard today<em>

That group of people, sitting on the roof gravitated towards him for leadership so quickly, it had stunned Rick. At first he'd believed that it was because he was dressed like a cop. Looking back, Shane had probably been wearing that outfit when he'd taken charge, they just knew to trust it.

Rick didn't question their submissive attitudes, hell; this was what he'd been looking for. People, and they needed help. He was more than excited. He was no longer alone, and he was finally needed. Someone who listened when he spoke, someone who wanted to not only survive, but thrive. Rick's voice was heard for the first time that day, and he'd like to think that he hadn't disappointed.

But he had.

_It's just another war  
>Just another family torn<br>My voice will be heard today  
>It's just another kill<br>The countdown begins to destroy ourselves_

_I need a hero to save me now_  
><em>I need a hero, save me now<em>  
><em>I need a hero to save my life<em>  
><em>A hero will save me just in time<em>

Rick knew better than anyone what it was like, the wondering, the praying, the hoping, that your family was alive. The intense hope that you carried in your soul that weighed you down more than any sadness could. It had plagued him since he'd woken up, and wasn't alleviated until he held Carl in his arms. However, Rick hadn't gotten rid of the feeling however. He'd just passed it on.

He'd royally screwed himself over by leaving the brother of the hunter in Atlanta to die. Everyone had loved Rick for bringing back the entirety of the group, minus the substance addicted asshole. They'd almost been happy for the lack of a Dixon in camp. Rick had been under the impression that they had understood what had happened, and they would back him on it.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

When he'd delivered the news to Daryl, the rest of the camp just started as the hunter pulled the knife on him. Shane helped him, but Rick knew that was more than just their friendship. Daryl attacked out of anger, Shane protected to also protect his dominance, and the camp watched the fight of the Alpha dogs, wondering who would come out on top.

Rick learned the game really quick that day. He was expected to be the hero.

But who the fucking hell was really going to protect him?

_I need a hero to save my life  
>I need a hero, just in time<br>Save me just in time  
>Save me just in time<em>

_Who's gonna fight for what's right?_  
><em>Who's gonna help us survive?<em>  
><em>We're in the fight of our lives<em>  
><em>And we're not ready to die<em>

Rick had been the leader of their small group of police officers, and he'd found that to be his natural niche. He belonged there, and he'd prospered. But now, he'd realized that was because those men followed a strict code of conduct that Rick lived and breathed. Here, in this new world, there were no rules, and any rules they did have, were constantly being broken…for the greater good.

But the greater good for who? And how did anyone know what the greater good was anymore? No one really had the needs of all above their own needs, but they were still too human to admit it. What were they supposed to do? They all claimed they wanted to be human still, and they wanted to maintain that 'moral code', but when Rick tried to enfource it, they turned on him in a second.

The longer he lived like this, the more he realized that he was just not cut out to be the hero.

But none of them were.

_Who's gonna fight for the weak?  
>Who's gonna make 'em believe?<br>I've got a hero, I've got a hero  
>Living in me<em>

_I'm gonna fight for what's right_  
><em>Today I'm speaking my mind<em>  
><em>And if it kills me tonight<em>  
><em>I will be ready to die<em>

_A hero's not afraid to give his life_  
><em>A hero's gonna save me just in time<em>

And Rick would put up with their shit. He would, because he did care about this group of people, but they were starting to weigh heavily on him. If he let Shane just take over, he'd look weak. But the longer he tried to be the hero, the more he got shot down.

Case in point: Sophia.

Rick had been the one to dive headfirst into the woods that for sure held two Walkers, and God knows what else. But he'd dove in, and he'd saved her from the two immediate threats.

No one else had shown up.

He'd hidden the girl, and given her specific directions back to the camp. Sophia was a twelve year old girl; she was plenty capable of being able to keep the sun on her left shoulder. And Daryl had attested to the fact that she had gone the way that Rick had told her to. She'd wandered off on her own.

Yet, somehow, Carol blamed Rick for Sophia not returning to camp.

Rick would shoulder the blame, and he'd wear it on his sleeve and deep in his heart, but there were times when he wanted them to listen. He wanted to scream at them _THE GIRL IS TWELVE! SHE WANDERED OFF ON HER OWN! WHAT MORE COULD I HAVE DONE?_

But he never said any of that.

When he wanted to scream and yell, he'd always remember an old cop he used to work with, someone Rick had known from his probie days. The old vet had smiled at him and asked _Do you fancy yourself a hero boy?_

_A hero's a hero._ Rick answered, wondering what the right answer to that question ways.

_You want to know a true hero?_

_Sure._

_A true hero is the man that bears the pain, and never speaks a word of it. Because, in order to resolve conflict, there has to be a scapegoat. There is no truer hero then a scapegoat boy, you remember that._

Rick hadn't been too sure of that at first, but now, it might as well be his own personal credo. Because these people needed someone to lead, and someone they could hate for it.

And as Rick had always believed, a hero was someone who gave their life. It wasn't until he stood on the other side of that highway barrier, and everyone's eyes only saw the absence of the little girl that Rick realized you don't have to be dead to give your life. _  
><em>

**Oh, and I had to take a few of the chorus' off the end, because well, Rick's story wrapped up so beautifully there! Let me know if you want more! And I need song suggestions for each character! **

**Let me know what songs you'd pair with the Camp, and let me know who you want to see more! (Yes…I know Daryl is a given…) **

**Please review! :D**

**Love, Eris**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hey guys! Got some likes, got a review, must be doing well :D Next up, we have Shane! And the song isn't exactly one I would've thought worked, but it came on the radio on my way home from school, and I was thinkin' about what to do for Shane…and BOOM! **

**At least, I think it works…ahha**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, or Viva La Vida!**

SHANE-Viva La Vida (Coldplay)

_I used to rule the world  
>Seas would rise when I gave the word<br>Now in the morning I sleep alone  
>Sweep the streets I used to own<em>

_I used to roll the dice_  
><em>Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes<em>  
><em>Listen as the crowd would sing<em>  
><em>"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"<em>

Honestly, this was not the way he'd expected any of this. Shane was not a bad person, and in the world before the Walkers, everyone had considered Shane a nice guy. He'd been a good cop, and he'd had his share of the ladies, and he and Rick were the greatest team anyone had seen.

Shane loved Rick. They were brothers, and they were family for damn sure. Shane took care of Carl and Lori, and he'd never once made anything more than a familial pass at either of them. Shane was the 'Cool Uncle' or the 'Last Second Sitter' or a 'Fundraising Victim', but he was nothing more.

Of course, that was before. Before Shane had witnessed his best friend shot, and he delivered that news to the shattered wife. It was before Shane had seen his first Walker, and before Shane had taken Lori and Carl as his.

He'd taken control then, completely alone for the first time. No Rick to back him up, and he made all the decisions. Because, just like Rick, Shane was a born leader. He lead those other survivors to a camp, the safest place they could create at the moment. They looked at him the way that people used to look at Rick. And Lori welcomed him to her bed, and Carl looked at him like a father.

Suddenly, Rick was gone, and it was Shane's time.

_One minute I held the key  
>Next the walls were closed on me<br>And I discovered that my castles stand  
>Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand<em>

_I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing_  
><em>Roman Cavalry choirs are singing<em>  
><em>Be my mirror, my sword and shield<em>  
><em>My missionaries in a foreign field<em>

Shane led those people because they needed to be lead. He'd been lucky, there hadn't really been anyone that challenged his authority, except Ed, but Ed was just a nasty little shithead that no one really paid attention to anyways. So once they'd established an area, they pretty much gave him the key to control, and he wouldn't lie, he liked being in charge. It was nice to know that these people trusted him that much.

But, they'd built their foundation too shaky, him, the camp, and his relationship with Lori. They hadn't expected the unexpected, boy, he'd thought they would've known better. They hadn't expected the dead to rise up, and they'd run around like headless chickens for way too long after it had happened.

Shane had made it his personal mission afterwards to make sure that he'd plan for everything. Any and every scenario. He'd built that foundation strong.

Then Rick had walked out of the cube van, and Shane had felt his carefully laid foundation dissolve into nothing but sand and his world was over.

_For some reason I can't explain  
>Once you go there was never<br>Never an honest word  
>And that was when I ruled the world<em>

_It was the wicked and wild wind_  
><em>Blew down the doors to let me in<em>  
><em>Shattered windows and the sound of drums<em>  
><em>People couldn't believe what I'd become<em>

Now, all of a sudden, the people who had been trusting Shane with their lives suddenly saw him differently. Now, he was the bastard who'd left his best friend for dead, and now, Lori hated him. Now, he was Shane, the liar. Now, for a lie Shane didn't even realize he was telling.

He'd put his head on Rick's chest, and there hadn't been a heartbeat! But still, Shane had tried to get him back, but Goddamn it, all those damn machines, and tubes and shit. How was Shane to know what to do?

None of that mattered though, because he'd told a lie he hadn't realized was a lie.

To go from Protector to Predator that fast, well, it had just made his head spin. And, of course, that was the time Rick had decided to take his try at leadership, and now, Shane was a stranger in his own kingdom.

He had been fuckin' revolutionized.

_Revolutionaries wait  
>For my head on a silver plate<br>Just a puppet on a lonely string  
>Oh who would ever want to be king?<em>

_I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing_  
><em>Roman Cavalry choirs are singing<em>  
><em>Be my mirror, my sword and shield<em>  
><em>My missionaries in a foreign field<em>

Shane no longer ruled, but he hadn't been banished. No, Rick was too kind for that, but the rest of them, Christ, they stared at him like he was a Goddamn time bomb. And maybe he was, hell, he didn't much have a reason to be there anymore.

Rick was leading, and he was leading just fine. Anytime Shane found himself speaking anymore, it was to either defend Rick's choices against a half assed attempt to shoot down anything Rick said, or it was to explain to someone that their idea was more than stupid.

He didn't need to be there anymore, because Rick was back as King, his rightful place in the world. But now, he couldn't just drop down a level again. He had tasted blood, and he'd enjoyed his power. He couldn't just walk around and never take control. He loved Rick, he did, but he just couldn't be the bitch anymore.

So Shane planned on being completely out of character, and he was going to take off. Why not right? Shane could live on his own just as well as he could in this group, and it seemed to be the best. Lori wouldn't move on if she had to see his face, and Carl would forget him after a while. Sure, he lost everything, but hell, he'd had nothing before, he'd get used to it again.

Power wouldn't happen again, but now, he would be alright if it never happened again. Seeing the way these people were starting to turn on Nice Guy Rick, he'd hate to see what crucifixion they would've put him through.

_For some reason I can't explain  
>I know Saint Peter won't call my name<br>Never an honest word  
>But that was when I ruled the world<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: I love that you guys are loving these as much as I am :D You can all drop a Thank You to Reader's Muse for helping me massively with this one! Hope you enjoy! This character was a particularly tough nut to crack!**

**And congradulate me, it took my until chapter 3 to pull a Bayside song x)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, or Mona Lisa by Bayside and this chapter contains racism, drug use and a lot of cussing, but then again, you wouldn't expect anything else.**

MERLE-Mona Lisa (Bayside)

_I thought maybe we'd made a pact,  
>But you gave into foul temptations making all the<br>Wrong moves and the wrong decisions  
>Making lies up for all the right questions<br>Maybe I was just asking too much  
>I don't think it's likely you're just made from all the wrong stuff<br>Your bed's been made  
><em>

Merle was never one for regretting, but now, as he was tugging uselessly on the handcuffs that the fuckin' pig had used to sign his death warrant, he found himself regretting a thousand things, but the drug use was at the top of that rapidly growin' list. The longer he was left to sit on the top of that building, the longer he was remembering the people he'd fucked over to get to the top, whether it be for personal reasons, survivor, or the blow.

But, if he was the only mother fucker left still snortin' the blow, well then fuck that shit. There was no way he was the only one still hittin' the shit. Oh fuck, the shit had been exactly what he needed all them years ago, and he'd admit that he hadn't foreseen it becoming such a big part of his life, but hell, some habits, ya just can't quit.

"_Merle? Wha's that?" Daryl stood in the doorway of the kitchen, the hissing of the yellow bus finally cluing Merle in on what time it finally was. Well shit, he'd planned to have all his shit cleaned up before Daryl got back from school. Ah well, Daryl was fifteen, about time he got a handle on his shit._

"_This," Merle gestured to the lines of pure white powder reflected on the glass "Is called Mona Lisa, because it makes ya smile, and ya don't know why. Com'ere and do a line with your big brother."_

_Merle had filled Daryl's head with the shit then bailed. He wasn't very good at the whole nurturing thing. But he'd never really needed to be, Daryl was pretty good at takin' care of himself. So Merle didn't hear from Daryl for almost a year. _

_That's why their Ol' Man had caught Daryl nickin' cash to score and beat the shit out of him. Daryl had showed up broken and bleeding on Merle's front step._

"_He kicked me out."_

"_Not my problem."_

"_Ya put th' shit in my nose. Ya fuckin' owe me." Daryl hissed, and dropped the duffle bag on the porch. Suddenly that skinny little shit was Merle's fucking problem. Daryl quit, but Merle wouldn't. straight up refused, and it pissed Daryl off. Sure, Merle understood the whole 'recovering addict' thing, but hell, Daryl wanted to bitch? He could go back to his Ol' Man. So Daryl just got a job and put forth his part of the rent. He didn't ask anything of Merle, and Merle didn't ask anything of him. They lived in the same trailer and didn't bother each other. _

Merle never really bothered getting to know Daryl. The kid was ten years younger than him, hell, they didn't even have the same Maw. So why bother? The kid held up his end of the deal, and he was decent to have around. Sometimes he'd make extra food. Good kid, but not much to hold Merle's attention.

_Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>Done a number on all of my organs<br>Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>Done a number on all of my organs<em>

Of course, the drugs back then held all his attention. But he'd also gotten enough sobriety when he'd been busted. Jail hadn't exactly fit into Merle's major plan. But, it had only been a drunken fight, and had landed him 16 months. When he'd returned home, the trailer was clean, and Daryl'd had some bitch living with them to split the rent.

She wasn't much. Tan, brown hair, blue eyes. She brought back a paycheck and she didn't scream when she fucked his brother. So she was a decent enough bitch. But honestly, Merle couldn't remember her damn name.

Merle hadn't really cared, because Daryl hadn't fucked anything up, so why would he. Daryl could fuck whoever he wanted, so long as it wasn't no damn lesser race. Daryl and that bitch weren't important at all. Merle had been cleaned out for 16 damn months, and all he wanted was some blow. So whoever lived in the house was no concern of his. Especially whatever bitch held his brother's bed.

Turns out, they would be.

_I must say I commend you on all of your fire,_  
><em>Soaring highs and drowning lows,<em>  
><em>Full speed ahead you go with all of your heartache<em>  
><em>It's all greater 10 minutes till doomsday<em>  
><em>All the while just showing your teeth,<em>  
><em>Smiling or growling, never sure I just wait and see<em>  
><em>Your bed's been made, now go die in it.<em>

Sure, he could remember the day that life changed perfectly clear. Hell, you ask any survivor and they'd probably give you the most detailed list of their day. Down to the last, most insignificant detail. Merle had woken up that day, done a few lines, watched Daryl leave for work, and threw in a porno. He didn't know that his brother's bitch was still in the house, that would've made things different. If she hadn't been there, Merle would have never made it out of the house.

_Move your ass would you? I don't know why, but Daryl loves you, and he told us to meet him back where you taught him how to shoot. I need to know where that is!_

Yah, she'd been a nice broad. Merle thought Daryl could do better, but hell, his brother was a right bastard. At least he'd gotten something. He hadn't really thought about her until now, but he wasn't surprised either. This was his confession after all, he was probably would have to face it sooner than later. She had been cute, but not as cute with the fear and anger etched onto her face, and the sheen of a cold sweat on her body.

Oh Jesus, Merle was sorry. He really was, but he did what he had to do in order to survive. Normally he would be congratulated for that…however no one would see it as survival, because he'd been high out of his mind when it happened. But, deep down in the darkest corners of his already tainted soul, he'd admit to whoever was accepting confession that day that he would've done what he did without the drugs.

That bitch, she had come flying into Merle's room, just as the porno had gotten good, and she'd turned on him, ordering him to follow her. They were going to meet Daryl, and they were going to run, but she wasn't going to be able to get there without him.

That bitch should not have told him that…

Merle had followed her outside, that that's when he'd seen the Walkers…his first ones. And the Walkers had seen them. They were sun baked, but looked softer then dough. Their clicking teeth and gasping breaths were almost a language between the monsters. Merle had frozen, unable to believe that these creatures from even the darkest trip existed. They contorted themselves in a dance of nightmares are bloodlust that froze Merle and the bitch. They could only stare at the large group of monsters who had caught their sent.

Oh Jesus, that swarm happened so fast, Merle was sure that he was going to die…until his hazy brain made him realized something. He was stronger than the bitch, had military survival training…and he knew where Daryl was. Logically, he was better for his brother.

So he had grabbed the bitch's shoulder, and he'd thrown her on the ground. And Merle, never looked back. He heard the Gawd-awful sound of flesh being ripped, and her pained screaming that resulted in an inhuman gurgling sound being forced from her throat. He'd killed that bitch, and he'd never looked back. He still couldn't remember her name.

When Merle had showed up alone…Daryl had took one look at Merle, and he knew. Oh he had to know. Daryl was never stupid, and Merle's eyes were glassy, and there was no remorse on his face. Daryl only shook his head, he didn't ask questions, and he just jerked his head to his truck.

_Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>Done a number on all of my organs<br>Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>Done a number on all of my organs<em>

And I've been racking my brain figuring out what to say,  
>But it may be safe to bet,<br>That the day might come where I'd forgive what you've done  
>But it still hasn't happened yet<p>

_Your bed's been made, now go die in it._

Hell, even now, with the sun beating him dead, and the hungry pants of the Walkers on the stairwell, Merle still couldn't bring himself to care about his brother. Sure, he looked out for the kid, and sure, he was family, but when it came down to it, he just didn't much care about him. Fuck, maybe he deserved to die like this. He wasn't any better than a fuckin' animal. A good man would die here, and save the world the trouble.

But, that wasn't the case here. He was Merle fuckin' Dixon. He wasn't a good man, not even close. Merle was a self-aware selfish bastard, and he sure as shit wasn't one to just lay down and die. He would have plenty of time to die later, but right now? Hell no. he wasn't going to let that Good ol' boy mother fucker cop get away with what he did. Asshole or not, Merle was a person and he certainly didn't deserve to be left to die like that.

And he would be making those feelings known very soon.

Merle was back in his head, his musings had only convinced him that he was too strong to die. He had a lot more to do before that, so much more. There would be a revenge for what those bastards did to him. The cop would get his throat slit, and the damn nigger who had dropped the key and left Merle there would pay the worst. He'd fucking get his revenge.

With that will to live back in his grasp, Merle decided that it was time to get serious. His halfhearted swinging at the saw with his belt was now focused, and he was aiming. Finally, he dragged the saw back over towards him, and took a deep breath.

He wasn't done, and those fucker had better not counted him out just yet. It would be the biggest mistake they'd ever make.

_Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>You're the black ice on my road to wholesome<br>Mona Lisa, you've really done something,  
>Done a number on all of my organs<br>On all of my organs_

**Thank yous!:**

**Willow- I am totally into meme's and I loved how you brought Scumbag Steve and Good Guy Greg into it xD I'll laugh each time I see Shane now, and seriously, TWD has started popping up on memebase. I'm loving it! Also, I wrote Shane's before I watched the latest episode, and Jesus that man makes it hard to give him the chance. He really does, but honestly, I think he's still doing it for the right reasons…he's just literally going insane. Know what I mean? Anyways, thanks so much for the review :D I just love getting them from you!**

**Scoro: I'm so glad you like them! It was kind of my goal to make everyone look at the characters a little differently, and I'm glad that it's working! The Shane was almost difficult to write, but I was pleased with the end result!**

**Willow The Collie: Thanks! I was worried about that one!**

**The Reader's Muse: Thanks so much for the review! And for the help with this chapter, although, to be honest, I'm really not all that happy with it. It was just damn near impossible for me to crack into Merle. *Sigh* hopefully the rest will be a little bit easier on my poor brain! **

**And I agree, I think Shane really isn't all that bad of a guy, the people just turned on him so quickly. It would've made my head spin too!**

**Thanks for reading guys! Review? :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This fic came down on a freakin' flaming chariot. I swear, it hit me hard, and it I had to write it right then. Essay of opposing ideas be damned! Now, I really hope you enjoy, I hadn't expected to enjoy writing for this character!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, or Cat and Mouse by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. This chapter holds suicidal thoughts and Dale/Andrea if you squint.**

ANDREA-Cat And Mouse (RJA)

_Softly we tremble tonight,  
>picture perfect fading smiles are all that's left in sight,<br>I said I'd never leave, you'll never change  
>I'm not satisfied with where I'm at in life.<em>

She didn't start feeling again until the RV was away from the charred, fire cleansed and purified. A means to an end. And she wasn't there; she wasn't just the barest traces of dust and bone scarred along the ruins. She wasn't dead alongside Jenner and Jacqui. Although she wanted to be, oh God she wanted to be dead.

The others in the car had the same expressions she did. Shell shocked, and the tremble of everyone moved the car. The adrenaline, oh they were still flying on the adrenaline. But they all had something she didn't, they had this immense gratitude shining in her eyes. They were alive, just barely by the skin of their teeth, but they were alive. And they were happy about it.

Andrea wasn't. How could she be? Everything she had cared about was lying underground a few miles away from Atlanta. With a chunk out of her arm, and a hole in her head. Andrea had nothing left. She had put her entire stock into her little sister, and she'd lost everything because of it.

She wasn't satisfied with surviving now, and she didn't want to. Not anymore, but yet, here she was. Driving away from what had to have been the most humane option for death she'd be offered. A millisecond of pain, and the suffering was over. Man that had sounded great. And really, it wasn't the humanity of it that she'd appreciated, it was the choice. It was the control, something she hadn't had since that first Walker had entered her and Amy's lives.

She was a control freak, who hadn't had control in days. Then, once given the chance to take control again, it had been manipulated from her hands once more. This world was fucking cruel, and she wasn't interested in staying around anymore. Yet, here she was.

_Am I supposed to be happy?  
>With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.<br>Am I supposed to be happy?  
>With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.<br>You said, you said that you would die for me...  
><em>

She wanted to be dead. She'd say it a million times if she had to. _She didn't want to be alive!_ How was that so hard for the people around her to understand? There wasn't such thing as happy anymore, and if there was, they for damn sure wouldn't be able to afford it. But no one else could see it. _They were all survivors. Sure, they were alive, but they weren't living. No matter what they told themselves._ She could only think this over and over as she met the faces of the rest of the people in the RV. Glenn looked like he might pass out any minute, but that damn smile of his was plastered on his face. He couldn't really be happy. None of them were. Not T-Dog, who'd left Jacqui without giving his sister something to fight for. All these people claimed they had reason to keep going, but that just wasn't possible. Not the Grimes', not Shane, not Daryl. None of them.

Then, there was Dale.

_We made plans to grow old,  
>believe me there was truth in all those stories that I told.<br>Lost in a simple game cat and mouse,  
>Are we the same people as before this came to light?<br>_

Oh, she was so angry with him. He just manipulated her into saving herself, when, in reality, she had been dead for a while. Because she'd promised so many different things to Amy, but the biggest promise was the one that was whispered those final seconds before Andrea had delivered Amy from living like a monster. Something she would've hated.

_I won't leave you behind_

So, it really didn't matter what preventive suicide measures that any of the others tried to play. Amy wasn't going to be alone in death, Andrea had to be there. Because…it wasn't fair. If Amy was dead, then Amy was with their mother, and their father. With their friends and lovers. All watching with a morbid interest as Andrea was trying to survive this sick excuse for a world. If it could even be called that anymore. It was more of an arena, where the dead were starting to completely block any progress the living had made.

Before the end of the world, Andrea had been a fighter. She'd fought against unfairness in everyday life. She fought against everything that she couldn't stomach. She wasn't one to lie down and die.

As the golden light of dusk poured into the RV, and painted the survivors a color associated to Gods, Andrea looked down at her golden hands, and wondered what happened to that girl. In the golden light, she suddenly looked more delicate and defenseless then she had realized. She was nothing but color. She was an intangible thing, trapped in the world of solids and reality. She wasn't who she was anymore. She was new, and it scared her.

Her eyes traveled up, and she caught sight of Dale, who was also bathed in the golden shimmer of the end of the day. Except, rather than looking soft, like she saw herself, he looked powerful. Like an elder God of wisdom. The voice of reason in their chaos. He was the sanest person under Rick's command, and with the light cloaking him, and the small smile he sent Glenn, Andrea realized they were no longer the same.

_Am I supposed to be happy?  
>with all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.<br>Am I supposed to be happy?  
>with all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.<br>You said, you said that you would die for me...  
><em>

The change was subtle, and she wasn't even sure it was there still, but there was something that had changed. Their character had changed. Andrea had given up, and Dale had manipulated her. Completely. He'd used those words he was so good at controlling and he'd painted her a cold, unforgiving tale of pity and guilt that it had roused her, fucking intent to kill personified, to go with him. Dale had never done anything like that to her before.

He had taken good care of her and Amy, and they had gotten the RV, which was the closest thing to a Hilton back at the quarry, and Dale had been their best friend. A good man.

Then he'd gone out of his way to pull Andrea back from a blazing inferno that would logically end her pain. But why? Dear God, why? Dale had decided to take their equal, platonic relationship, and brought them somewhere else. To a new degree, where he had the gall to protect her. Like she needed protecting! She wasn't confused, and she certainly wasn't regretting her suicide attempt. Her friend had changed her mind for her, in a very non-friend fashion.

Almost, more than a friend fashion…

But why?  
><em>You must live for me too'...<br>For me too...yeah, yeah...  
>You said that you would die for me...<em>

_Am I supposed to be happy?  
>with all I ever wanted, it comes with a price.<br>Am I supposed to be happy?  
>with all I ever wanted, it comes with a price<br>You said, you said that you would die for me...  
><em>

Dale didn't want to live without her, but, why? She wasn't a pathetic excuse of a replacement wife for him. She wasn't his problem. But, the more she repeated these things, the more she realized that she was just pulling excuses. That wasn't the reason at all. There were theories she could conjure up in her spare time, such as he wanted his friend, or Dale wasn't close to the others like he was her. There were several ideas.

But those weren't enough for her to really pull an answer from. And as the golden glimmer slowly faded, leaving the Gods and Goddesses in her presence to flitter back down to nothing but normal humans, the severity of their faces dramatized by the darkness flirting along the windows, Andrea realized she'd just have to wait it out.

She wanted this answer, and she wanted to know what Dale was playing at. And if that meant postponing her suicide, then she could do that. After all, it wasn't hard to die in this world. It was the reasons to live that were the elusive part._  
><em>

_You said that you would die for me  
>You said that you would die for me ohoo<br>You said that you would die for me oohooo_

**Thank Yous:**

**Muse: I'm glad you liked Merle's backstory :D Him and Daryl are my favorite toys.**

**Willow: It just seemed likely that, with Merle as a brother, Daryl would have at least tried the stuff!**


End file.
